


Tell Tale

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Bugs, Confession, Horror, Maggots, Monologue, Necrophilia, Necrophilia mentioned, Violence, letter of confession, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: Hello again my dearests and welcome to the fifth story of our Spoooooky collection!The Cardinal Copia has been caught in flagrante delicto with something particularly horrible under his floor boards... The taunting voice of his predecessor whispering in his ears has driven him mad... Father Nihil, hear my sins.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Scary Stories To Tell In The Abbey





	Tell Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains reference to necrophilia in veiled terminology. Please read carefully.

I have not always been this way, you see. Once, perhaps even less than a year ago, I would have thought myself sane. But no longer. No. Now, I flinch at the slightest of sound and the wind howling outside mine window has done naught for my nerves. The barest scratching on mine window panes from a stray branch of that dead brother's tree, and my heart pounds fit to bursting. Like a stallion, it gallops in my chest and it will fail me one day, of this I am certain. I no longer recognise myself in my mirror. The paint I wear seems to have seeped into my very skin, so tired I appear.

The Sister Imperator, keen eyed as she be, has thought me of too feeble a spirit to maintain my position with the Clergy. I asserted to her that I am more than capable, more than Undivinely Bless-ed by He, and she seemed to accept this as gospel. Still, her creased brow and pursed lips follow me throughout the Abbey and I am now looking behind my shoulder at every turn. A narrow escape from being discovered, but an escape none-the-less.

Every turn throughout these Unhallowed halls brings me a surging fear that threatens to choke the air from my very lungs. Would mine own Ghouls turn against me in this endeavor? Could they, somehow, be swayed to take my life in exchange for hers? Dew… Aether… all of them, my loyal and summoned companions, Hell sent to guide me through this life. Would they bend so easily if they thought their leader led astray?

I am getting off track, and the fault is my own. I apologize. Words seem to come too easily or not at all to me, recently. Many a night I have sat to pen a letter and only stopped when the sun peeked itself over the horizon. When it comes time to discuss my crime, though, my mouth dries and I cannot… make the words come to me… I cannot vocalize what I have done. 

I am sorry, then, to make you hear my confession. Perhaps you’ll think me less of a man and more of a quivering rat, atremble at my own shadow. I beg you, listen when I say that I did not mean for things to come about in this fashion. The plan was, of course, mine own… but the outcome… that was theirs. His. The photograph for the magazine cover, yes, yes… Of course, that was her idea. I went along with it, and I still am unsure of the process of forgiveness of it. For me and for her. 

My anxiety was going to send me over the edge tonight, had you not arrived and prompted me. Of that I am certain. You want the honest truth of it, then? You wish for the gritty story to be laid bare, in full, and want me to spare no detail? As you wish, then. 

It was half past midnight the first time I heard it. A thumping, just from underneath my desk in the bedroom. It’s where I levied up the floorboards, you see. I stored my prize there, and I admit, I used it several times. The urge for self pleasure from it… the desire was too great, and I found that by spending myself inside of it, I was able to stay satiated but not for long. That ecstasy of finishing and knowing where I had spent myself… where my seed now lay… It’s enough to leave me heady with arousal even now, thinking about it. 

Apologies. That first night, I heard the thumping, almost as if one of my rats had gotten to my prize… my newest possession. I stomped upon the floor and the sound dissipated, but a curl of hesitation and foreboding invaded my senses. I remained cautious and worried for hours until the sun peeked through my window pane and I rose for the day. The thumping did not occur for the rest of that day, but the memory of it lingered at the edge of my mind. That evening, as I lay in my bed to sleep, I heard it again. A thumping, coinciding with a whispering that caressed my ears… the voice that I had dreaded to hear for days now. 

“You should have done it yourself, Cardinale,” it called to me. It tore at my senses and yelled and screamed until I was a writhing mess upon my bed sheets, sweat soaked through my mattress until I no longer knew where my thoughts ended and the voice began. “Too weak to do your own deeds, so you send your Ghouls to do them for you,” it taunted. I yelled back. I was not in my own mind, rightfully so, tormented as I was for hours by that snide, smirking little shit.

Forgive me. I lost myself. 

That night was last night, before they knocked upon my door this morning. Their pounding terrified me to my core, as I thought I had been found out… As I was. Standing there and speaking to them at my door, I knew that they knew something was amiss. I heard the yelling and the taunts and the foul vitriol from its place under my desk and I flinched with every word, and yet still, they did not seem to hear it. They did not ask me who was screaming at me from the next room…

So confused were they, that they merely followed me in shocked silence as I stormed to my desk and ripped the floorboards asunder. So shocked were they that they merely watched as I wrenched his wicked head from the floor, the mottled flesh sliding like film from the grimy bottom of a sink onto the floor. So horrified were they that all they could do was scream as the vitreous remnants of my former leader’s eyes dripped down his hollowed cheeks like a popped grape. So utterly, vacantly mortified were they that all they could do, as the maggots fell like rain onto the floor, was faint.

And now I am here, Papa Nihil, in confession to you. 

Will you hear my sins, Father?


End file.
